Scotch, or Straight Shots
by fictionalcandie
Summary: As extraordinary and unordinary people, respectively, James and Sirius can't really be expected to have an ordinary relationship with each other. [Oneshot, slash, JPSB.]


**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Really. She wouldn't do this with them, I don't think.

**Author's Notes:** Birthday fic for my darling **duva**, who is ultimate love. She is the most fantastic person, and so I write her fic that tries to be fantastic but really generally fails. Except for the part where it has hot young males. I like that part. Haha.

**Warnings:** Slash. Language. Heavy consumption of alcohol. (And, er, dubious consent?) If you have a problem with any or all of these things, I advise you not to read the fic, because flames about that will depress me and then I'll kill myself and you'll have my life on your conscience and how will you ever live with yourself after that! That is to say, I'll laugh and make fun of you for reading what you'd been warned you wouldn't like.

**o.o.o.o**

"I think Lily wants to get married," sighed James, staring into his tumbler of scotch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius arch his brow elegantly, and cursed his half-drunk self for noticing things like Sirius's elegance anymore.

"Really? Why d'you think that?" his best mate asked, sounding annoyingly sober even though James _knew_ he'd had the most liquor, of the pair.

James shrugged, hunching further in his chair, until he couldn't see Sirius even when he looked sideways. His hands and the glass they held received another mild glare. "She's dropping hints."

"Oh," mumbled Sirius, and James heard a grimace in the low, smooth voice.

"Big hints," James added.

"Oh." The bottle of scotch and Sirius's hand came into James's view; glass clinked against glass, and he saw the level of scotch in his tumbler rise.

"Anvil-sized hints," James added.

The scotch bottle was back on the table. "Oh."

"Soviet-sized hints," James added.

"Oh," Sirius repeated, for the third time.

"So I think she wants to get married," finished James, taking another large swallow of scotch and belatedly adding an unnecessary, "Wedding-catalogs-on-my-kitchen-counter-sized hints. Fucking literally."

"Well, shit," muttered his best friend. It was said almost casually, but James realized that Sirius sounded much more inebriated than he had when the subject had initially been brought up; this, oddly, irritated James even more than the initial sobriety had.

He nodded silently, and didn't look at Sirius.

With a grunt, Sirius stood up and wandered over to his ice box, and then his sink, then his stove, then his television, and several other interesting places in his one-room loft flat, before coming back to the sofa. He sat down again, much further away from James than he'd been a few moments ago. James was so distracted by all the movement that he was quite confused when Sirius quietly asked, "So, how do you feel about it, then?"

"Feel about what?" he returned, looking up toward Sirius's nearly scowling face, blinking blankly.

Sirius rolled his usually pale eyes, which were currently a shade darker than their true bright, predawn-mist gray. "Marryin' Evans."

"Oh." James nodded to show that he understood, then paused before questioning, absently, "Didn't... didn't I ask you not to call her that anymore?"

"Yes," replied Sirius. He tipped his head back and finished off the rest of the alcohol in his tumbler. "Yes, you did."

"Oh." Again, James nodded, actually pleased this time, though with himself and not necessarily Sirius. "I thought so. All right, then."

One corner of Sirius's mouth twitched upward briefly and James stared at it, fascinated, as the other man leaned to the coffee table to refill his glass. Finding the scotch bottle empty, he tossed it toward the kitchen area with a noise of disgust, and redirected his hand for the bourbon.

"Still haven't answered m'question," Sirius reminded him, once he'd settled back into the sofa cushions and taken two long, slow sips of the amber liquid he'd just poured. There seemed to be a tensely contained sexuality in every little thing he did...

James looked away quickly, cursing himself again, and wishing his friend wasn't quite so easy to stare at. "I know," he admitted, forcing his mind to focus. He sighed morosely. "I'm not sure how I feel. Er... what do _you_ think?"

Sirius was silent for several moments, all of which seemed unnaturally long to James, and then he said, quietly and slowly, "Well, I couldn't hit on you if you married her."

James felt his expression involuntarily brighten a little. "Oh, yes, you're right, there is that, isn't there?"

He blinked, and when his eyes opened Sirius had surged to his feet a second time, scowling darkly. "What?" he asked, as Sirius threw himself into the chair across from the sofa.

"That wasn't meant to be a good thing about marrying her," snapped the other man, his voice muffled by the glass of bourbon he was emptying.

Feeling cruel and disappointed, James's face fell. "Oh."

There was silence in the flat for longer than James liked. It gave him too many torturous seconds to mentally devour the sinful picture made of an angry Sirius and liquor he'd promised Lily he wouldn't drink.

"You know," began Sirius, in a steady voice that proved he wasn't as drunk as James had thought, despite the way he'd sounded the last time he'd spoken, "if it bothers you that much, then maybe you _should_ marry her."

"Or, you could just stop," James suggested hopefully. He was watching the way Sirius's neck moved as he swallowed, imagining how the skin would feel under his lips.

Sirius scoffed derisively; he might have rolled his eyes again. "Why would I do a stupid thing like that?"

"Because I'm taken already," answered James honestly. Then he quickly added, "And straight."

Abruptly, something in the room changed. He couldn't tell what it was, because Sirius looked exactly as he had an instant before, but he knew that something shifted, and they weren't in the same positions they had been before he spoke. His scalp prickled; he rubbed the pad of his thumb along the rim of his glass and licked his lips nervously. Sirius was watching these small movements, and suddenly he smiled.

"I knew you before Lily did," he reminded James calmly, stretching out languidly, in such a way that caused James's gaze to travel down his chest to where the muscles of his thighs were creating lines in his tight cotton trousers.

James looked away. He tried to decide whether drinking more would be a good idea or not, and settled for muttering, "I just _said_ I was straight."

"I probably love you more than she does, too," Sirius went on, as if James hadn't spoken. His voice was serious. James's head jerked up and he stared, terrified to discover that Sirius's face was serious as well, all beautiful jaw line, harsh cheekbones and soaring gray eyes. His eyebrows were lowered and drawn together; a dark slash across a white, set expression that James only saw when Sirius really meant something.

His heart leapt into his throat, and he fiercely wanted to hate Sirius.

"_You're_ straight, for fuck's sake," James hissed at him, glaring viciously, to cover the way his breath had sped up and his hands were shaking, grip on the tumbler becoming tenuous.

"I know," agreed Sirius, with as much honestly as when James had said the same about himself. Then his eyes were suddenly on James's mouth; he licked his lips and leaned forward, and James's pulse spiked as he backed further into the cushions of the couch.

"You're scaring me," James whispered without thinking, his voice raw. He almost didn't recognize it as himself speaking.

Sirius smiled, something dangerous flashing in his unfamiliar eyes. "I know."

James knew they were both worryingly close to doing something they ought to regret even thinking about. His empty glass slid from his fingers and tumbled to the cushions and then the floor. "Please," he whispered desperately, pleading for Sirius to ignore anything he was about to say, "think of Lily."

"I do, every time I see you," Sirius whispered back, moving around the coffee table and kneeling in front of the couch, just slightly between his best friend's splayed knees. There wasn't any way for James to disguise the way he was staring now, unable to stop the way his eyes drank in Sirius's unique flavor of sensuous-- something that could inspire decadent, animal heat in the veins of anyone with working reproductive organs.

Normally James avoided letting them get this close at all costs, but tonight he hadn't been able to, and he felt the disastrous results of that failure roaring in his ears and straining the seams in the crotch of his jeans.

"Sirius," he gasped, his vision blurring -- he wasn't sure if it was because of the lust consuming him, or just that Sirius had removed his glasses -- "Sirius, think of _me_."

"I do," said Sirius, inching his head closer. "Naked."

"Sirius." The word was barely audible, forced from a throat that had gone dry with expectant anticipation. "_Please_."

Sirius's hands had found their way to the back of the sofa, his thumbs brushing James's shoulders through his t-shirt, little whirls of heady, heated sensation shivering down his torso.

"You can hate me later," murmured Sirius, reading James's mind but not very accurately. "Hell, maybe you ought to. But I've been waiting five years to do this."

James whimpered, clenching his fingers around his friend's arms. Full, slightly damp lips brushed his, before settling firmly at exactly the right angle and parting to let Sirius's tongue escape.

"_Sirius_." It came out a moan of a delight, an excuse to curl their tongues together. Before he knew what he was doing, James's hands were under the other man's shirt, pulling it up.

He didn't get an answer, because Sirius had taken over his mouth. There was a tongue rubbing against his, lips pressed close and moving urgently. Sirius's hands weren't on the couch at all anymore, instead grasping James by his shoulders painfully tightly, providing leverage that was keeping his torso away from the back of the sofa and closer to the warm body taking advantaged of his intoxicated, willing state.

Their kiss broke when James pulled Sirius's shirt off, and to James's disappointment, Sirius didn't return to it immediately. Instead, he trailed his lips down his friend's throat, then back up, stopping next to his ear.

"Do you have any idea how fan-fucking-tastic you look right now?" Sirius demanded, his hands sliding down to James's hips and pulling them forward until they touched his. "I've no idea why Lily objects to you getting drunk. I wouldn't."

"I'm--" James gasped, his throbbing groin coming into contact with the tented material of Sirius's thin trousers. He moaned something unintelligible, then managed to explain, "I'm-- I'm _easy_ when I'm drunk."

Sirius chuckled, the deep noise reverberated through James, sending his pulse soaring even higher and causing him to rock his hips forward urgently, desperately. "I know," Sirius said smugly. Then he kissed James again.

There was a hand unfastening his jeans, and he realized dimly that it was Sirius's. He couldn't convince himself to mind, despite the part of him insisting that he should. Especially not when long, warm fingers were wrapping themselves around his cock and pulling insistently. Oh, God.

Sirius drew back from the kiss and sank onto his heels, his fabulous, sexy gray eyes focused on the swollen cock directly in front of him. His breath caught slightly, and he hungrily licked his lips.

James immediately realized what was about to happen, and abruptly froze. "Sirius, I can't d--"

"If she finds out, tell her I raped you," Sirius interrupted him, and then a hot, knowing mouth was wrapped around his even hotter cock.

Not surprisingly, James didn't protest again that night.

That led where such things naturally led, and James woke the next morning with a splitting headache, naked and sated on Sirius's couch, feeling hazardously pleased with himself. He saw Sirius smirking at him from a half an inch away, and absolutely panicked.

Two days later, James Potter proposed to Lily Evans. Since Lily was so busy planning their wedding, she never found about about that one night and Sirius's, and he never had to tell her that Sirius had raped him. Or that it hadn't really been rape at all.

_**finis**_


End file.
